


Chief's Compliments

by eschscholzia



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Baking, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Morning Sickness, Post-Season/Series 04, Pregnancy, Yavin 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eschscholzia/pseuds/eschscholzia
Summary: Hera Syndulla is struggling with the trials of early pregnancy, when she receives help and support from an unexpected source.





	Chief's Compliments

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Pregnancy mentions, Post-season 4, Jacen Syndulla in utero

_Not again_. Another wave of nausea crested over Hera. She took a surreptitious glance around her. Nobody was looking. She set her wrench down on the ground next to the X-wing she was servicing, and strode quickly and purposefully into the edge of the jungle.

A few moments later, anything left from her small breakfast was deposited onto a bush. The glossy green leaves and white flowers had a faintly cloying smell that only made her feel worse. Sinking down against the base of a tree, Hera closed her eyes. Tears started to form behind her eyes. _Would this ever stop?_

Somewhere behind her, footsteps crunched in leaves. _Oh no._ _Can’t be seen like this._

“Ma’am,” a woman’s voice called out. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

The footsteps stopped. Hera calculated quickly in her head. _Can’t hide; she’d been seen, for all she thought she had quietly disappeared_. Hera took a deep breath and looked around the tree.

A human woman stood at a respectful distance, a deep crease in her forehead. She was of average height, but wore the uniform of a Chief in the Construction Battalion. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows revealed strong arms with a slightly faded tattoo. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw Hera’s General’s insignia on her shoulder. The stranger snapped to attention.

“You’re a General! My apology, Sir.”

 _So this was how it would be._ _She would return formality for formality._ Hera grabbed a convenient knot on the tree and hauled herself up, returning the stranger’s salute.

“I should give you a lecture, soldier, on learning to identify ranks properly and getting your bantha poodoo together, but then, you got the drop on me.”  

The jungle spun around Hera, and she abruptly sat down again. The stranger rushed forward.

“Sir, are you sick? Do you need the medics?”

“I’m not sick. I’m pregnant!” Hera blurted out, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Nobody on the base knew yet except the medical staff and Senator Mon Mothma. Sinking back into the tree she closed her eyes. “You did not hear that, Master Chief,” she ground out around clenched teeth, as a wave of fear mixed into her already roiling stomach. _The last thing she needed was a gossiping base. Loose lips crash ships._

The leaves rustled, and she felt the Chief take a seat next to her at the base of the tree. Hera opened her eyes. A quarter turn around the tree, right at Hera’s eye level, the Chief’s black bun was squashed up against the bark. The Chief held out a shiny hip flask to her. Hera could just make out the embossed insignia of one of the old Clone Wars Legions. It looked familiar from her childhood on Ryloth. But which one?

Hera shook her head. “I can’t drink that.”

The Chief chuckled. “Oh no, this isn’t the stuff I make in the radiators. This is plain water.” She poured some into the lid-cup, and offered it again. Hera swallowed hard and took the proffered cup. She smiled in thanks at the Chief.

“Don’t tell anyone it’s just water,” the Chief said, winking. “My crews will never respect me again.”

Hera laughed, a wry bitter laugh, almost a cough. Now they each held a desperate secret over each other in mutually-assured destruction. “Thank you, Master Chief.” She paused. “I haven’t seen you at Yavin before. Are you new?”

“No and Yes, Sir,” the Chief replied. “I was just transferred to Yavin from Tierfon, Sir. I’ve been with the Rebellion for several years, Sir.”

Hera nodded. It made sense why Hera had never seen the woman, between her trips to Lothal and elsewhere. It was understandable their paths had never crossed. The loss of Tierfon base was a shame, but at least those Rebels had been reassigned to other groups.

“Permission to speak freely, General?”

“Granted.”

“May I recommend lemon drops? They might help settle your stomach. You could suck on those and people might not notice. ”

Hera took another sip of the water in the cup, and nodded. “Noted, Master Chief.”

She closed her eyes and drained the cup, and handed it back. Wiping the last drops away with the back of her hand, Hera sighed. “Thank you, Master Chief.”

The Chief smiled. “I remember those early days with my daughter. I like to thought I’d die, but I didn’t. Now she’s nine and staying with my brother and his husband.”  

The Chief stood to go, brushing the leaf litter from the jungle floor off her trousers. She smiled down at Hera, little wrinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll leave you here so it doesn’t look too conspicuous. If we came back together, people might notice.” The Chief laid a finger next to her nose, then resumed a straight military attitude and saluted. “Permission to leave, Sir?”

Hera leaned back against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the Chief. She returned the salute. “Dismissed.”

Hera did not see the Chief again around the base, but then it was a busy place with ships coming and going. Repairs to ships and briefings and training classes took up all her time. A few days later, Hera returned to the Ghost at a lunch break, hoping to catch a quick nap in her bunk. She was exhausted. She found Zeb in the common area of the Ghost, gazing in admiration at a metal pie plate in the center of the dejarik table. The smell tempted her nostrils. The scent was just a little bit sweet, but not too much. Hera felt like there might be some rare stirrings of her appetite for a change. The filling was obscured behind a perfectly golden crust, the edges fluted together. In the middle, the baker had pricked the outline of a Starbird. Hera huffed a single laugh to herself.

Zeb gestured to the pie with one purple hand. “It’s Massassi lemon pie. One of the Construction Battalion crewbeings brought it over,” he said. “Said it was Chef’s compliments.” He scratched his chin. “Or was that Chief’s compliments?”

Hera smiled; she knew who it was from.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for #RebelsRemembered. There was a lot of discussion over the struggles Hera would have faced as a single parent or pregnancy after the loss of a spouse. I wrote this a year ago trying to sort through my feelings about the discussion. I think it probably sucked in ways that I can't begin to imagine, but I like to think that she wasn't friendless. One of the themes of Rebels was "found family," after all. When I heard about the #RebelsRemembered project, it inspired me to dig this out of my Google Docs and buff it up. Hopefully enough time has passed that it isn't as painful to some, although I know many are still upset. 
> 
> Thanks go to my military coworker for helping put military-appropriate dialogue into Hera and the Chief's mouths. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> The recipe for Massassi Lemon Pie can be found [here](http://lostrecipesfound.com/shaker-lemon-pie/)


End file.
